


Admission of Guilt

by sabriel75



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sleeping Together, Survivor Guilt, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Derek knows Stiles is the only person in the pack who understands guilt like he does by the ticking of his tell-tale heart and because Derek's heart beats out the same admission of guilt.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Admission of Guilt

Derek slumps where he sits on Stiles’s bed. Awake, tense but tired and listens as Stiles races up the stairs, throwing in his school bag, but for the most part bypassing his dark room to go shower.

He doesn’t see Derek in the dark. 

Scott’s mom must’ve taken over cleanup and medic duty then, for Scott and Allison. Or he hopes so because Peter sucks at everything but wreaking havoc. Derek had run off, leaving Allison and Scott dealing with their own secrets and the fall-out of those before even making sure they were okay. 

He might still be in shock, because Derek has no idea where to search for Boyd and Cora and he should’ve used his Alpha speed to chase them back down – except he was so focused on not shifting, not hurting his baby sister he had almost gotten Scott killed, again. When he could finally zero in on everything, only Allison, who had explicitly disobeyed his orders and Scott remained, making excuses for her, and he had saw red. 

How can he be so selfish still? Derek’s instigating these fights, makes the pain all about him and forgets so much of it has trickled down to these teenagers. He knows it’s not all his fault and yet, it always does come back to him. 

It’s why he’s here. He has to know just how the hell does one deal. 

Stiles comes in, naked as the day he was born, flailing about the dark of his closet, turning the light on only when he bangs his shins, hopping around putting on his boxer briefs. His heart jumps about three beats too quick when he notices Derek. Thankfully, he’s managed to fully cover his naughty bits. A t-shirt’s caught on his forearms and he manages to slid it over his head and on before scowling at Derek. 

“New low all around tonight,” Stiles says pissy, but Derek doesn’t really care. 

Derek knows they think he's a grade A creeper and it’s not going to stop any time soon. There’s an alpha pack around and he’s about the only one who could help any of these smartasses out if a fight came to them. They’re stuck with him for now. 

“How do you do it? Deal with it?” He asks, looking Stiles directly in the eye, hoping to hold him in place with his alpha stare. 

Stiles stares back, and behaves unfazed by the alpha traits beginning to warp Derek’s human features. His heartbeat says otherwise, but he drawls out, “Deal with what Derek?” 

“The guilt! How do you deal with the guilt of killing your mother” – Derek goes to amend this statement, to say the guilt that’s build up since you feel responsible for your mother’s death or a variety of other ways that don’t sound exactly like what Derek feels, because he knows he’s responsible for his mother’s death, his entire family but he’s cut off and Stiles is already whacking him on the chest, pushing him roughly, yelling uncontrollably at him. Not that he’s budging any, but Stiles doesn’t let up.

“Holy God, Derek! What the hell, man! Get out. Get out of my bedroom. Get out… Get out… Get out. GET. OUT.

The tears freak Derek out; he doesn’t think Stiles even realizes he’s crying. His face is red, growing redder and Derek hears him asphyxiating on his own choked cries. 

“Fuck Stiles, breathe. C’mon, breathe,” Derek says, trapping Stiles in, his back to Derek’s chest, arms going around Stiles chest and shoulders, legs going around Stiles, anchoring them to the floor criss-crossed style sitting. 

Stiles sinks back into him, gulping and lets his head fall back on Derek’s shoulder, his diaphragm expanding with each deeper breath. Derek heaves a sigh of relief, so huge, he and Stiles move in tandem with the force of it. There’s an uptick in Stiles heart rate but he breathes through it, evening out eventually. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve… I know how you feel,” Derek tries to stay silent, but he has no one else to talk to. “You obviously aren’t dealing with it.” 

If Derek had thought Stiles irrecoverable for speech, he thought wrong. 

“What the fuck!  You know what, you don’t get to do this, Derek. This topic’s off limits. Who cares how the hell you know what I feel, just get out.” 

Derek’s arms tighten, not roughly but Stiles is efficiently imprisoned by Derek’s arms and he’s squirming and using his full body in an effort to break away but at least he isn’t spiraling into a full-fledged panic attack. Derek nudges his head with his forehead, catching Stiles’s furious gaze and whispers, “Please. Just please listen.” 

Thirty seconds tick by, fifteen more and Derek’s impressed with how quiet and still Stiles has gone. He seems to be searching Derek’s face and takes another fifty-seven seconds before he goes lax in Derek’s arms, relaxes but doesn’t leave Derek even when he lets his hands rest at Stiles’s waist. 

Stiles nods, puts out a sweeping hand and says, “So talk.” 

 _Admission of guilt._  

Derek’s familiar with that brand of heart beat and Stiles’s constant, arrythmic rate speeds up at every little thing that could be perceived as his fault, even when his mother gets mentioned. 

“You and I have the same heart beat.” 

Stiles shakes his head, a bit angry but a bit amused too and must settle on the hilarity of Derek’s remark because he curls in on himself and laughs, while sitting essentially in Derek’s lap. “Really, that’s what you’ve got?” 

Derek ruffles his hair and pulls him back in, and doesn’t bother to think about why he does that, and says smugly, “You’d be surprised what all we have in common, Stiles.” 

Stiles just laughs some more, before pulling away from Derek and helping him up. He pushes Derek down on the bed. “C’mon, you’re not dealing well either.” He cuddles up next to where Derek’s laying and fits himself to Derek, drawing as much warmth from him as he can. He also provides it. 

“You run too hot for a human,” Derek says groggily. 

“Hmmm,” Stiles answers, “It’s not your fault. Kate’s a cancer… was a cancer and she killed your family.” 

Derek hugs Stiles a bit tight at that, and has to wonder what Stiles knows but he understands. Of course, this bratty, selfish, but ever so loyal, always helpful teen knows exactly what Derek feels. He has known it. 

“We’ll find her,” Stiles continues. “We’ll find Cora and Boyd and Erica and we’re not giving up or blaming each other because …” He snuggles closer to Derek. “Well, you know why. So sleep.” 

And they do. They fall asleep somehow after that, until Derek startles awake at the rattling of the Sheriff’s cruiser coming and nudges Stiles, “Gotta go, your dad’s headed home.” 

Stiles doesn’t really acknowledge him, but lets him slide away, turning over muttering something about an elaborate set of caves. 

Derek leans in closer, “What set of caves, Stiles?” 

“Huh,” Stiles replies, eyes cracked, “Oh Peter. Inside joke about him living in an intricate set of caves all connected underground…” and that’s all he manages before his soft snores start up again. 

Derek pecks him on the forehead like a child, whispers, “Goodnight” and leaves.

And Derek’s stuck on caves and the hope he’s suddenly feeling. The Hale House has caves underneath it or underground rooms and in the preserve, they had specific “safe” caves for when someone got injured or lost. Derek thinks about all these places when he jumps out of Stiles’s bedroom window, careful not to be seen and then takes off running.


End file.
